


Dreams of Flight

by nonomo



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 11:59:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12232392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonomo/pseuds/nonomo
Summary: Daenerys gives Jon a flying lesson.





	Dreams of Flight

**Author's Note:**

> No editor, so forgive any terrible mistakes I've made, I'm not a great writer, and I'm an even worse self editor so I'm sure there's a bunch of them. o.O  
> Kudos are great way to tell me if you want more. Reviews are better. Or do nothing, I'm not the boss of you.

Daenerys couldn’t hold back her smile as they soared through the sky. The winter air was harsh and cold and bit at her exposed flesh but she did not care. Drogon was fire made flesh and radiated heat like a hearth. So did the man who was mounted behind her, his body pressed tightly against her own almost pinning her to her dragons heated scales. 

She twisted her head back to look at him, her smile growing even wider as she took in the amazed look on Jon’s face as he stared down at the vast expanse below them. She knew how he felt, she felt the very same thing every time she rode Drogon into the clouds. There was nothing else like it. 

As if he could feel her eyes boring into him he turned to face her, matching her gaze. She had grown accustomed to the brooding looks of the somber King in the North but this was something different. He grinned wildly at her, his eyes shining with joy as if for this one moment all the weight he carried on his shoulders was lifted. In the air, with her, he was free. 

Tyrion had warned her that this was not a good idea, but she knew then he had been wrong. Even if it didn’t work and Jon was unable to control a dragon it had been worth it for that look. It was worth it to see that smile. Daenerys eyes drifted down to his lips before she quickly turned away. 

She reached back grabbing his arms, guiding them up to the two spines she held onto when she guided Drogon through the air.

“Here,” she called out, she turned her head again to press her face closer to his own so he could hear her voice over the wind. Jon grabbed onto where she was holding. 

“He can feel you,” she said pausing as she felt his body press closer against her. Jon was nearly leaning over her now, the scruff of his beard rubbing against her cheek. She took a shaky breath before continuing, “let your body tell him where you want to go.” 

Jon blinked rapidly a few times and glanced at her for a moment before Daenerys let go, giving control to Jon. She kept still, making sure Drogon wouldn’t interpret anything she was doing as a command. It was subtle at first, Jon barely leaning to his left but she felt it. She felt Drogon shift and her eyes lit up. It had worked. Drogon had listened. 

A joyous laugh erupted from Jon’s chest as he realized what he was doing. With growing confidence he moved more, leaning and pulling back. Drogon responded in turn banking, then turning before lifting up further into the clouds. 

She knew it, from the moment he had stepped into her throne room on Dragonstone that he was different. Drogon approaching him after her attack on the Lannister's forces just cemented the fact in her mind. Maybe her dragons felt the connection she had with him, maybe his mother had some Valyrian blood. She didn’t know but it hardly mattered right now. He was there now, with her, alone in the clouds, flying her dragon.

Drogon dipped to fast, too steep, catching her and Jon off guard and snapping her out of her thoughts. She slipped forward slightly, barely moving but on instinct Jon let go of the dragon with one hand and wrapped it tightly around her waist pulling her tightly to him. 

“It’s okay,” Daenerys said turning to face him. “Drogon won’t let us fall,” 

Jon nodded but his hand stayed securely around her waist, his fingers sprawled out over her stomach, his eyes never leaving hers. 

It was Daenerys that turned away. This wasn’t the time for that she thought to herself as she chewed on her bottom lip. She took a deep haggard breath hoping the chilled air would help calm her racing heart. It was little help.

She had thought Tyrion had been worried about them falling to their deaths. Losing, in his words, the two most important people in all of Westeros, in some sort of freak accident but maybe he had been worried about something else. She tried to ignore the feeling of Jon’s hand on her stomach, she tried to ignore how close he was, how good it felt to have his body nestled so tightly against her own. 

The sun was setting, bathing them in a warm orange glow that made the moment all that more perfect in her mind. She wanted- No, she shook those thoughts away knowing Tyrion would be waiting and worried. Daenerys sighed knowing that they needed to go back. That they should go back. 

Daenerys shifted her position readying herself to take back control. She slipped down Drogon slightly, her hips scooting back inadvertently pressing herself into Jon. 

She felt his hand tighten around her waist and even though he tried to hide it she heard a soft groan escape his throat. Unable to stop herself she raised her hips then rolled her body against him. She felt him hard against her ass, and her heart skipped a beat before beginning to pound rapidly in her chest. 

All rational thought left her mind as she moved her hips again and was rewarded with another soft moan and his hold around her waist tightened. His hand slipped down and for a moment she wasn’t sure if he was going to try to stop her or- 

“Dany.” 

It was a rough, desperate sound, his lips nearly rubbing against her ear as he said it. She felt herself blush and a wave of warmth spread throughout her body pooling between her legs. It was enough to break her. She twisted around as best she could and kissed him, hard and fast, crushing her lips against his own. Gasping into his mouth she rotated as much as she could. She let go of Drogon and reached out for Jon. One hand wrapping around his neck the other burying itself in his hair. She pushed her ass harder against his aching cock and he moaned opening his mouth. She attacked, deepening the kiss. She pulled her hips away and twisted under him until she laying on her back sandwiched between Drogon and Jon. 

Jon looked down shocked. But Dany wasted no time pulling his head down and capturing his lips in another kiss. She loved how he tasted, how he moaned against her. With one hand wrapped around his neck holding him close the other went to to the laces on his trousers. She wanted more, needed more. She wanted to feel his flesh against hers, his skin on hers. 

“Jon,” she moaned into his mouth as she struggled to undo the laces. Frustrated with her inability to rid him of his pesky clothes she shoved her hand down his pants and wrapped her fingers around her prize. 

“Gods,” Jon moaned. 

She felt his hands tug on her own pants, then heard the tear of cloth, then the cold air against her thighs but she didn’t care. She needed this, she needed him. 

Daenerys smiled wide against his mouth and pulled her thighs up against Jon’s waist and freed his cock from his trousers. She kissed him again harder as she guided him to her. He was thick and hard and he throbbed in her hand and she was so goddamn hot and wet. She cried out a sob of pleasure as the tip of him slid against her. Her back arched, her legs wrapping around him to pull him closer as he pushed inside. 

She clung to him, moaning and whimpering, her hand digging into the back of his neck and the soft furs of his cloak. She bucked her hips up forcing him to bury the full length of his cock into her aching body. 

“Jon,” she moaned burying her head into his chest as he began to move inside her. Her body stretching around his as he thrust into her. His moans filling her ears, his beard scraping roughly against her cheek.

“Jon,” she cried out again as he moved his hips grinding down onto her, crushing her between her dragon and his cock. It felt to good, so warm. She had wanted this for too long. Her eyes fluttered shut, sparks of fire shot up her spine, her toes curled and her back arched so violently she thought she might break in half.

Drogon flew faster, the wind whipped at her exposed flesh making the heat she felt within her all that more intense. His hair had come free, his soft curls brushing over her face as she pressed her cheek against his and moaned. She wanted to beg him to never stop, to keep fucking her forever but she couldn’t get the words out, she couldn’t breathe. She couldn't’ do anything but hold onto him and moan his name. 

“Jon,” she cried out a final time as she found her release, Her body clenching down tightly around him. She heard him moan her name, then felt him spill his seed inside her and it sent another wave of pleasure crashing throughout her entire body. 

Daenerys gasped lurching up moaning as she came, she reached out only to find nothing, empty space and a chilled room. She sat up shocked and confused. her blankets pooling around her legs. She stared wide eyed at the at the foot of her bed. Her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. She was alone, in her private quarters at Dragonstone. 

The fire in the hearth had all but died leaving little more than a few glowing embers, she looked over at the large empty bed beside her then down at the fur lined blankets that covered her. Her fingers were wrapped so tightly in the furs her knuckles had turned white. She released her grip and stared at the fur vacantly for a moment as her body began to cool.

A dream, nothing more than a dream. Daenerys shook her head, wiping the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. Nothing more than a dream.

She swung her feet over to hang off the bed. She went to stand but stopped as she felt her legs tremble. She sighed heavily and let herself fall back onto the bed. It was just a stupid dream. She pressed her hand against her chest, her heart still raced. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. She did her best to ignore the wetness between her legs and the false memories of Jon body pressed against her own that lingered in her mind. 

She laid like that for a moment. Staring aimlessly out one of her windows at the cloudless sky, willing herself to forget, to fall back asleep. 

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breathe, her dream still replaying in her mind. She would find no rest tonight. She's stood, grabbed her cloak and slipped on her slippers and left the room. 

The two unsullied posted at her door followed wordlessly as she walked down the hallway towards the throne room. Tyrion always kept a bottle of wine there, maybe that would calm her. 

She had not made it halfway there when he noticed her Hand standing, a wineskin at his side, on one the countless balconies that seemed to be connected to every hallway and room at Dragonstone. 

He heard her coming, peaking behind him to make sure.

“Your grace,” he said with a slight bow of his head. 

She joined him on the balcony staring out at the coastline, he reached over to his side handing her another full skin of wine. She stared at it for a moment and then back to him. 

“No glass?” she mused with a smirk,

“'Tis’ the middle of the night Your Grace,” Tyrion said smiling back at her, his words slightly slurred. “I forgo using cups hours ago.” 

She rolled her eyes but took a sip from the wineskin. 

“And if I may ask what keeps the Queen awake at this late of an hour?”

Daenerys paused for a moment and considered her response.

“Troubling dreams,” she said softly as she stared off towards the beach. She could see the torches of where the Northmen worked mining the dragon glass. 

“Hmmm,” Tyrion nodded his head, ”Not too troubling I hope.” 

Daenerys glanced at him. 

“Was it not your namesake Daenys Targaryen who dreamt of the doom of Valyria and saved your house from ruin four hundred years ago?”

“You know your Targaryen history.” Daenerys stated, she looked over to where her dragons were roosting, they’re bodies curled on top of each other as they slept. Her mind wandering back to her dream, her breath hitched in her throat and she hoped it was too dark or Tyrion was too drunk to notice her skin flush with the memory. 

“All the better to server you your grace.” Tyrion bowed with a smile. 

“I doubt my dreams are prophetic,” she replied smoothly shaking the thoughts away. 

Tyrion shrugged. “I’ve seen the stone men of Valyria, dragons in the skies and if Jon Snow is to be believed an army of dead men march in the North. I try not to doubt anything anymore.”

She looked away at the torches at the beach. 

“So you believe him now?”

Tyrion shrugged again. “Get enough wine in me and I'll believe anything, another hour of drinking I might even believe Jon snow took a knife to the heart and came back from the dead himself.” 

She stared at the torches as the fire danced along the shoreline. ‘Took a knife in the heart.’ Davos’ words had been in the back of her mind ever since he first spoke them during their first meeting. Her curiosity had been piqued, that is all, and like an itch she could not scratch it began to consume her. She had been thinking of Jon Snow and Davo’s words before she had fallen asleep. That was why she had dreamt of him, and the only reason why. 

“Day and night they work,” Tyrion said noticing her gaze towards the cave entrance. “I’m not sure when the man finds time to sleep.” 

She looked down at the beach. She would get some answers tonight and put her mind to rest.


End file.
